Out Of Suffering, Emerge The Strongest Souls
by InkheartFirebringer
Summary: Hojo wasn't expecting anyone else to be in the labs that late at night – let alone a vengeful blond time-traveller, with a serious grudge against scientists in general and against him in particular.
1. The Killing Ground

**Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VII, as much as I wish otherwise.**

* * *

**Out Of Suffering, Emerge The Strongest Souls**

* * *

It was dark in Midgar.

Of course, it was _always_ dark in Midgar, for those who lived under the Plate. But for the people who could see the sky, it was true night; despite the fact the haze of light pollution hid the glorious, glittering expanse of stars far above.

The massive Shinra tower dominated the skyline and regardless of the late hour, lights still shone steadily on many of the building's floors. Floor 68, home to the Science Department's main laboratory, was one such area.

It was quiet, though; only one person lingered so late. Otherwise the floor was deserted. Machinery whirred in the background. The occasional soft whimper of a test subject broke the near-silence. The sound of paper rustling, of sheets being sifted through, was interspersed with the tapping of a keyboard. A thin man in a lab coat was hunched over a computer, scowling. The light from the screen reflected off his glasses as he flicked through his sheaf of notes again.

Unable to find what he was looking for, Hojo got up and shuffled across the room to a filing cabinet, cursing his incompetent assistants under his breath as he went.

If he had been a bit more observant, the scientist would have noticed the sudden flicker of the lights, the way they dimmed and then brightened again, in a surge that travelled from one end of the room to the other in a wave-like motion.

If Hojo had been _outside_ the Shinra Headquarters, he might have seen the ripple effect passing along the entire length of the 68th floor, each successive window lighting up brighter than the last, before culminating in a star-bright flare of white light in the final room. As it did so, a minute tremor ran through the entire building, barely detectable even to those whose senses had been enhanced by mako.

Though Hojo remained utterly oblivious to the phenomenon occurring at the far end of the floor, his experiments were more alert to such abnormalities. Bodies stirred behind glass, behind wire mesh, behind steel bars. Heads came up. Dull eyes flickered with interest. Their senses, heightened by twisted experiments, picked up the shift in the current of energy flowing through the building, detected the unusual surge in the Lifestream. One creature began a low, keening sound; a horrible, pained noise that finally gained Hojo's attention and made him look up from the filling cabinet.

"Quiet!" he snapped, banging a fist on the door of the cage. The metal rattled and the mutated creature shrank back, falling silent.

The scientist picked up the papers he needed and shuffled back to the computer, noting the sudden restlessness of his test subjects with annoyance. _I must increase the dosage for specimens E and L, and perhaps for N too..._

Hojo was so absorbed in his calculations that he barely registered the sound of quiet footsteps behind him. They were hesitant, almost unsteady, as if the person was disoriented or dizzy.

"Ah, good," Hojo said, without looking up from his work. There was a sharp intake of breath at the sound of the scientist's voice. The footsteps halted abruptly. "Fetch me some more samples from the store room, along with a few concentrated doses of mako. The specimens are agitated tonight for some reason."

Pure silence reigned for three full seconds. Then there was a sudden explosion of movement and noise. Hojo's desk went flying, the computer crashing into the wall with a deafening bang and a shower of sparks. The scientist found himself lifted off the ground and slammed against the wall hard enough for his vision to implode with white lights. A strong hand was wrapped around his throat, holding him in an iron-like grip. His feet dangled a few centimetres off the floor.

Hojo wheezed breathlessly, clawing feebly at the deceptively slender fingers crushing his windpipe. He thrashed, attempting to loosen the chokehold, and then his gaze snagged on his assailant's face.

Brilliant, mako-bright blue eyes met his own. They burned with absolute fury; the depth of emotion was staggering in its intensity. The eyes belonged to a young man, who was perhaps in his early to mid-twenties. Soft, blond spikes of hair fell in disarray across his face, which was twisted with the same overwhelming rage. He was dressed all in black, in an outfit that resembled that of a SOLDIER 1st class. A silver wolf head insignia decorated his left shoulder, a matching earring in his left earlobe. The hilt of an enormous Buster-style sword protruded above his shoulder, furthering the impression of a SOLDIER.

"You!" The young man hissed, shaking Hojo like a rat. The scientist felt his teeth rattle in his head and tried to shriek in outrage, but all that came out was a strangled wheeze. "You died! You died when Meteor fell! How can you be here?"

Then something seemed to occur to the blond swordsman and he glanced around. "Where are we for that matter? Where have you brought me?" Then another blindingly intense emotion flashed across the man's face and Hojo let out a wheeze as the grip on his throat suddenly constricted again. "_Where are Tifa and the kids?_"

The scientist met the unnerving blue eyes, burning with redoubled rage, and felt icy fear cascade through him. Who _was_ this man? Hojo coughed and frantically pulled at the hands locked around his throat.

Seeming to realise that the scientist couldn't reply when he was being choked, the swordsman released his grip. Hojo crumpled to the floor in an undignified heap, gasping for breath.

The blond man watched the scientist with an intense gaze, waiting for him to recover. His eyes flickered briefly around the lab, taking in his surroundings, and his fury seemed intensify at the sight of the caged test subjects. Then he frowned as he looked around more carefully. "This...this looks an awful lot like...but it can't be..."

Muttering to himself under his breath, the swordsman strode to the window and looked out. His eyes went wide with shock as he beheld the glittering metropolis of Midgar, spread out beneath him in all its glory. He sucked in a breath and stepped back from the window, shaking his head. "Impossible! That's impossible..."

Hojo ignored the barely audible mutterings of the obviously mentally unhinged man pacing about his laboratory, concentrating on massaging his abused throat and trying to breathe normally. Keeping one eye on the blond man, Hojo began sidling along the wall, trying to reach the button that would bring security running. Privately, he doubted that anyone less than a SOLDIER would be able to deal with this intruder. If it wasn't for the fact he kept meticulous records of all his experiments, he would almost believe that this man was an escapee from the containment area for the subjects of mako testing.

However, the interesting questions clamouring for attention in his brain – such as _who is this man? Why is he as strong as a SOLDIER? __Exactly__** how **__strong is he? Has my method for creating SOLDIERs been leaked somehow? Is someone else making SOLDIERs? Why is he here, in the Shinra Headquarters? Did this supposed competitor send him to kill me? _–all took second place to the more immediate demands of his survival instinct. After all, Hojo reasoned, there would be plenty of time for questions later, when the man was strapped to a lab table, undergoing a thorough inspection.

Hojo's fingers were mere inches from touching the alarm button when a sudden swishing sound filled the air and the enormous sword buried itself in the wall, a hair's breadth from cutting off the scientist's fingertips. He looked up into the hard blue eyes of the swordsman. "I don't think so."

The blond crouched so that he was on eye-level with Hojo, scrutinising the scientist with an intense, assessing stare. A tense minute went by before he nodded slowly to himself. Apparently something had been confirmed. "Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath, incredulity lacing his tone. "But I suppose you do look younger."

Hojo could only stare. The man was clearly insane.

The swordswoman yanked his huge blade out of the wall with ridiculous ease, scattering chunks of plaster everywhere. "Now," he said, in a voice almost as dangerous as the sword he wielded. "Tell me. Are Tifa and the children here? Did you lock them up somewhere?"

Hojo attempted to speak but his throat seized up, voice struggling to escape past the abused muscles. He tried again and managed to croak, "I don't you know what you are talking about. There's no-one else on this entire floor. You're insane, boy."

Something flashed in the blond man's eyes and Hojo suddenly found a bright swathe of steel held against his throat, a millimetre away from drawing blood.

"I am _not _insane," the swordsman ground out, his voice thick with suppressed rage. "No thanks to you."

"You're not making any sense," Hojo sneered, regaining a little of his confidence. "I've never seen you before in my life. I haven't done anything to you that would affect your sanity."

The young man bared his teeth in furious snarl. "Not yet, you haven't. But someday, in a future past, you will lock my friend and I away in the basement of the Shinra manor at Nibelheim and attempt to make us part of your Reunion experiment. And when that fails, you will spend the next four years torturing us in the name of science." The clipped, bitten-off sentences were saturated with loathing. "Just like you're torturing these poor creatures."

The swordsman gestured with his blade, a sweeping motion that took in the rows of cages, where the once-human test subjects shifted in the shadows and watched the drama unfold with a sort of detached interest.

Hojo stared at him coldly. "What does the pain of a few matter in the larger scheme of things? They suffer only for a fleeting moment in time but the wealth of knowledge they provide lasts forever." Internally, he was reassessing his opinion of the swordsman's origins. While he was obviously mentally unstable – talking about the future as if it were something that had already happened, as if he were a _time traveller_ or some other absurd nonsense – it was equally clear that someone within Shinra was _definitely_ leaking information. Very few were even aware of the existence of the Reunion experiment...

Murderous rage rose in the swordsman's eyes. "You are as amoral now as ever, Hojo. Have you ever cared for anyone? Ever cherished anything?"

Hojo sneered. "Such trivialities matter little in the pursuit of science. Weaknesses and distractions that have dragged down other men –"

"– and lesser mortals?" The young man's tone was filled with mocking and fury. "Bloodstained knowledge really is the only thing that matters to you, isn't it? Knowledge gained through the torture and slow destruction of living creatures, to feed your own bloated sense of self-importance. Your ego knows no bounds and you walk this earth with the arrogance of the god you believe yourself to be –"

"_How dare you speak to me like that!_" Hojo hissed, outraged. "You know nothing, boy!" He lunged for the blond, hands curled into claws intent on gouging out those vibrant blue eyes –

Something impacted into his torso with a loud thump and he jerked to a halt. Hojo looked down to see to the enormous sword buried in his body, just under his ribcage. Already, a wet redness was spreading with alarming speed over the white expanse of his lab coat. Streams of blood ran down the length of the blade towards the hilt.

At first there was only the sensation. The awful grinding of metal against bone and flesh, the visceral _tearing_. Then the pain hit. And Hojo _screamed_.

It was agony beyond belief, pain beyond pain. Dignity was forgotten, the haughty arrogance he wore like a cloak was stripped away by the base need _for the pain to just stop._ Hojo met the hard blue gaze of the swordsman and saw grim satisfaction in the mako eyes.

_This is what you do,_ the eyes seemed to say. _Over and over and over again. This just a small fraction of what you inflict on your 'specimens'_. _A tiny fragment of their suffering. Suffering that you stretch out for days, weeks, months. __**Years.**_

"Please..." the scientist rasped. Blood bubbled from his mouth, spilling down his face, down his neck. He couldn't manage any more words; the barest movement made the blade shift, sending waves of agony crashing through him.

The blond man's eyes tightened with anger. "I won't listen to your pleas. Why should I? Pleading never made _you _stop. I should drag this out, let you have the slightest taste of the agony you inflict on a daily basis."

Silence stretched. Hojo hung on the sword, suspended, barely able to think through the pain. His rasping breaths were the only sound in the room. The seconds ticked by as the young man's eyes bored into him. More and more of the precious red liquid seeped out of his body, soaking into his clothes, coating the shining blade.

Then, for the first time since they had met, the anger left the blond's eyes, and despite his youthful features, he suddenly looked ancient. Those blue eyes looked old. Old and weary and tired. "But I won't. There has been enough suffering. I will give you a clean death. As undeserving of it as you are, I can't bring myself to stoop to your level."

The sword was withdrawn and Hojo crashed to floor. He had no breath left to scream at the agony that the jarring impact caused, no breath left to scream out in fear, in fury, at the sheer injustice of it all.

Instead, he screamed inside his head as the blond man hovered over him, sword raised and ready to strike.

_I REFUSE TO DIE HERE, AT THE HAND OF THIS FREAK! I HAVE __CREATED A GOD AND THE PERFECT WEAPON, I WLL ASCEND INTO IMMORTALITY AND THEY WILL ALL__** BOW**__ TO ME –_

"Goodbye, Hojo."

The sword slashed down.

xxx

Seven minutes later, the peaceful silence of Midgar at night was shattered as alarms up and down the length of the tower began wailing and the entire building descended into chaos with the discovery of Hojo's corpse. Turks, security staff and SOLIDERs alike swarmed the tower but the lockdown came too late to trap the intruder.

A blond swordsman watched from the shadows of Sector Zero as the Shinra Headquarters blazed to light and life in the wake of the scientist's death; before he turned and melted into the night.

xxx

Far above Midgar, the stars shone in all their eternal brilliance, bearing silent witness to the events below. They listened as the currents of power humming through the Planet changed pitch, growing to a roar as the Lifestream surged powerfully and they were the only ones who saw the brilliant flares of white light occur, each signalling the arrival of a time-traveller; one, two, three times.

The first was in the Shinra tower. Then a bright spike of light briefly lit up the arid plains surrounding Midgar, and then once more, far away, high in the Nibel mountain range.

The blooms of light slowly died away. The Lifestream subsided, the roar fading back to a gentle hum. The darkness of night reasserted itself and the stars shone on, ancient and forever, as the world slowly turned towards the dawn and history rewrote itself.

* * *

**A/N: This story was inspired by the fact I have read a lot of time-travel stories, but I don't think I have ever seen one where Cloud was actually the one to personally kill Hojo. I thought he deserved a chance to pay that sadist back for the four years of torture he and Zack had to endure. :P**

**Anyway, this is my first time writing for Final Fantasy VII and I haven't actually played the game so there may be mistakes; please excuse my ignorance if that is the case. Also, you might have noticed that I've left the ending open. This is because I do have some semblance of a plot sketched out in my head to make this into a proper story, instead of just a one-shot. Let me know if you want me to continue. :)**

**Thank you for reading and please leave a review. :P**


	2. Of Dreams and Anguish

**Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VII. *cries***

* * *

**Out Of Suffering, Emerge The Strongest Souls**

**Chapter Two: Of Dreams and Anguish**

* * *

It had taken a while for Cloud to finally convince himself that he wasn't experiencing a particularly vivid dream. He had been wandering the slums in a haze of shock and disbelief for past hour or so. The blond was lucky that that his appearance (or more accurately, First Tsurugi) made thieves and thugs keep a wary distance – they might have tried to take advantage of his complete distraction otherwise. He wasn't his usual alert self at the moment, but it really wasn't that surprising. After all, it wasn't every day that you went back in time.

_Time travel._ Cloud exhaled loudly, shaking his head. It still seemed impossible despite the evidence in front of his eyes. His stomach suddenly lurched uneasily and the swordsman stopped for a moment to brace his gloved hand against a nearby wall, leaning forward carefully in case he really was sick this time. He took slow, deep breaths, trying to quell the feeling of nausea that had suddenly intensified again.

The queasiness slowly faded to a bearable level and Cloud straightened up again, grimacing in disgust as he rubbed the back of his hand over his brow to remove the sweat that had beaded there. He hated being sick. It was a horrible reminder of the Geostigma and how feeble it had made him feel; how it had seemed as if his body was breaking apart from the inside out. The swordsman absently touched his arm, where his Geostigma had been visible. Internal illnesses were so much worse than wounds from claws or teeth or blades or bullets.

Cloud began walking again, thinking as he gingerly picked his way over the rubble of what had once been a building. Terminal diseases aside, he hadn't felt this ill since before he had been pumped full of mako. The green liquid seemed to have cured him of the travel sickness had been his constant and unwelcome companion for the first sixteen years of his life; not to mention preventing him from catching any colds or any of the other common illnesses that afflicted the general population. He could only assume that his present state of nausea had been caused by travelling through time and was something so strong that not even mako could banish it.

_Time travel. _ There it was again. All his thoughts led back to what had caused his current situation but Cloud could barely wrap his head around the idea. He was aware that he was mentally shying away from the enormity of the revelation – not to mention its devastating consequences – but the seeming impossibility of it had had him wondering if he had finally snapped and descended into insanity.

It had certainly felt like that when he had first laid eyes on Hojo. The blond swordsman had regained consciousness lying on the sterile white floor of a laboratory and the unwelcome familiarity of his surroundings had made him instantly lurch to his feet in a panic. This resultant dizziness had been almost been enough to send him back to floor. It was only sheer stubbornness that had kept him upright and Cloud had began searching for the way out.

Stumbling across Hojo had felt like one of his nightmares coming to life – the kind that still woke him in the middle of night, gasping and sweating, filled with terror and fury and helplessness. The only explanation he could think of at the time was that somehow the scientist had survived Meteorfall and had kidnapped him to use in more warped experiments. A reasonable guess – and one far more likely than what actually appeared to be the truth. When Cloud had looked out the window and saw Midgar – in its pre-Meteor state – an icy wave of shock had swept through him, followed by sudden fear for his sanity. But then his memories of what had happened just before he woke up in Hojo's lab chose that moment to finally surface from the depths of his mind. He didn't entirely trust them – he had a bad track record with memories – but it was enough to make him doubt, make him consider the possibility that somehow, unbelievably, he might actually be in the past.

After killing Hojo, the swordsman had made his escape down the emergency stairs. It was at that point, as his dizziness had faded, that his nausea had begun to manifest – although really he could only be thankful that its appearance had been delayed long enough for him to get away from the Shinra tower. Cloud had ridden the train down the slums (narrowly avoiding throwing up) and had been walking through the ramshackle buildings and mounds of rubbish and rubble for about an hour. Every sensation – every object touched, every undamaged part of the slums he laid eyes on – was another confirmation of his impossible reality.

Cloud came to a halt, his hand resting on the jutting edge of a slab of concrete embedded upright in the ground, as his mind came to a silent conclusion; as it finally accepted the truth.

_I… really am in the past._

The blond swordsman remained completely still, the enormity of the realisation sinking in. The nearby area was silent too. There was only the sound of his breathing, harsh and ragged, loud to his sensitive ears.

Then, fast on the heels of acceptance, came the logical questions. _How? How is this even possible? And more importantly, __**why? **__Why send someone back in time? And why me in particular? _

…Well, he could guess the answer to that last one anyway – modesty aside, Cloud had to be one of the strongest beings on the Planet. Physically, anyway.

The ex-mercenary pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache gathering behind his eyes and if the sense of swelling was anything to go by, it was promising to be a bad one. However it was nothing compared to the emotions expanding within him, wrestling for space. _It must have been the Planet that sent me back. It must. Nothing else has that kind of power._

Images flashed in front of his eyes, the last things he could remember before he woke up in Hojo's lab, that seemed to confirm this idea. _(White light, tinted with the green of the Lifestream, exploding around him, swallowing him up. The startled cries of the others echoing around the ruined church as Cloud vanished from their view, then a tremendous wrenching sensation, as if he were a plant being torn out of the ground by its roots –)_

Cloud shook his head vigorously, trying the banished the remembered feeling. The headache grew worse. He pressed the heels of his gloved hands into his eyes, exhaling slowly. _**Why **__did the Planet send me? It must need me to do something…but…I'm hardly fit for it. I'm still recovering. Without Tifa's help, I'd still be a complete wreck, and I'm far from healed as it is…_

_**Tifa.**_

The terrible realisation hit him like a punch to the gut, stealing his breath. Tifa was in future. As were all his friends, his comrades. The people whom he saved the world with, who had helped Tifa pull him out of the deep well of depression and had alternatively been there for him and kicked his ass when he needed it. Those bonds that were as strong as steel, that had been forged in the heat of battle, that had connected them even when they were scattered across the Planet – had been finally, unthinkably, severed. Because he was far beyond their reach now, separated by _time_; an insurmountable obstacle.

Memories of them flashed through his mind; Yuffie, bright-eyed and cocky, waving a shining orb in a taunting fashion; Barret, throwing his gun arm out for emphasis, exclaiming loudly over something; Cid, leaning on his spear, smoking and grinning at the 'kids' of the group; Vincent, quiet as ever, red eyes inscrutable, fingers resting lightly on Cerberus; Cait Sith, chattering wildly and bouncing around their feet; Nanaki, lounging in the shade of a tree, observing his surroundings with curiosity; Tifa, Marlene and Denzel at her side, leaning on the bar, dark hair brushing the wood, dark eyes fixed on him, amused, caring, exasperated, loving –

Cloud wrenched his thoughts away from them, the agony increasing with every memory. The sense of loss was stunning. Pain was gathering within him, tightening his chest and squeezing his lungs, closing up his throat with unshed tears. The swordsman felt light-headed with grief. They still existed, here in this time period, but none of them knew him. They were strangers; not yet the people he had travelled the globe with, not yet grown into the people that would one day save the world. All those experiences they had been through together, all the blood they had shed in defence of the Planet, all the hard-won, unshakable friendships – lost in a heartbeat. He was completely, absolutely alone. It was a cruel parody of all those times the blond had sought solitude, avoiding companionship of any sort. But the possibility of contact had always been there. His friends had always been within reach…

Cloud's hands clenched unconsciously into fists, the pressure so strong that the black leather strained over his knuckles and creaked under the pressure. Pain flared in his left hand as a slim band of gold on his third finger bit deeply enough into skin to draw blood. _Tifa…_

The blond swordsman wasn't sure how long he wandered the slums aimlessly, lost in the anguish and grief, but his stupor was broken suddenly in an unexpected way. A pure note, like the chiming of a crystal bell, shivered through the air, seeming to bypass his ears and echo directly within his brain. Cloud's head snapped up, startled, and his hand shot to the hilt of First Tsurugi. It fell away again in surprise, as he realised where he was.

Aerith's church lay directly in front of him; the beautiful, dilapidated old building nestled amongst the rubbish and rubble of the Sector 5 slums. Somehow, his feet had carried him here without conscious direction and right now, the church seemed like a god-send. It represented peace and comfort and familiarity. The ex-mercenary hesitated only a moment, before easing open one of the massive doors and slipping inside.

The church was empty, save for the flowers. Shafts of moonlight fell through gaps high in the roof, bathing the delicate blossoms in silvery-white light. Cloud padded forwards, down the aisle between the pews. Ancient wooden floorboards creaked under his heavy boots, loud in the absolute silence of the church.

The blond paused before the bed of flowers, gazing down at them. In his own time, a pool of pure, clear water sprinkled with butter-yellow petals had replaced them. Here, they still bloomed in all their quiet, defiant glory. The moonlight had robbed them of their colours but their scent remained; a sweet fragrance that hung in the still air, reminiscent of summer. It breathed life into a small part of sunless, poisoned Midgar.

Cloud hesitated briefly, and then sank to the ground. He placed First Tsurugi on the floor beside him and sat cross-legged. He leaned back against a pew and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. The minute the swordsman had walked through the door, the atmosphere of the church had washed over him like a wave of warm, soothing water. The calm, peaceful aura was a balm to his wounds. The sense of overwhelming grief and aloneness had faded into the background; his lingering headache and nausea had dwindled to almost nothing.

Cloud wondered, not for the first time, if Aerith's presence – and the healing that she brought – had somehow soaked into the very stones of the building. He could feel himself drifting off to sleep, worn out by the emotional stress of the last few hours. This place felt safe and secure and his mind was demanding rest. The blond swordsman sighed and shifted against the hard wood of the pew. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.

xxx

_For a moment, Cloud thought he'd woken up. Then he realised that the flowers at his feet formed an endless carpet that appeared to stretch on for miles and that they were the only things – apart from himself – in an empty, light-filled white void._

_Well, not quite. There was a flash of pink out of the corner of his eye, and then the ex-mercenary sensed someone step up behind and slightly to the left of him. A bright voice spoke. "Hello again, Cloud."_

"_Aerith." The swordsman relaxed at the familiar voice, warmth and recognition filling him. Her presence still invoked a lingering sense of guilt and grief, underlying the happier emotions, but it had diminished greatly from the black, acidic self-hate that had once eaten away at his soul. Finding the strength to stand against Sephiroth had been the catalyst that had dragged him out of his paralysing depression, and the support of his friends had been the anchor that had prevented him from falling again. Cloud was far from healed, but he was on the road to recovery._

_However, for once Aerith's untimely death was not foremost in his thoughts at one of their meetings. His mind was already racing ahead and relief was the dominant emotion as he thought he knew the reason for one of the brunette's rare visits. "I don't suppose you're here to fill me in on what's going on?"_

"_Yes, I am." She paused, then asked, almost nervously, "Walk with me?"_

_Cloud nodded and began moving forward through flowers. Aerith moved with him, although he only caught glimpses of her out of the corner of his eye. The silence stretched on and he wondered why she wasn't talking._

_A few more minutes passed (or perhaps it was hours; time was hard to judge during Aerith's visits) before the brunette finally spoke. "Cloud…"_

_With that one word, he suddenly realised that she __**was**__ nervous. Tension coiled in his stomach in response. What could she have to say that was so bad she feared his reaction?_

_A deep sigh came from the Cetra walking beside him. Then she finally spoke. "I'm sorry. I wish I could have prevented this, but even I can't sway the Planet once it has made up its mind."_

_Cloud exhaled heavily. "So I was right, then? Getting sent to the past was Gaia's doing?"_

"_I'm afraid so." Aerith sounded unhappy._

"_What does it mean?" The blond stopped walking, trepidation filling him. "Aerith, why exactly was I sent back?"_

_The brunette swallowed audibly. "It started… about a year ago. When the Geostigma had reached its peak, just before the Remnants appeared and you and Sephiroth fought it out in the ruins of Midgar. The Planet was afraid that it was irrevocably damaged; afraid that even if the Geostigma was eventually banished, it would forever carry Jenova's taint within the Lifestream. Afraid that the Calamity would never stop returning, rising from the dead again and again, wearing down its defences until it would be simply too weak to fight Jenova off again."_

_Aerith paused and took a deep breath. "So it decided on another course of action. To send someone back into the past, in order to prevent Jenova from ever joining the Lifestream in the first place."_

_Cloud swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. He wasn't even sure what he was feeling right now. "And that someone was me?"_

"_I'm sorry." Aerith sounded miserable. "You are one of the strongest people on the people; physically Sephiroth's equal. And you've already saved the world once, albeit with help. The Planet thought you were an excellent choice for its protector."_

_The blond swordsman was unable to restrain a bitter laugh at this. "Yes, because I've proved myself so good at protecting people in the past."_

"_Stop it." The Cetra swatted him lightly on the shoulder. "__**I**__ don't blame you, and Zack certainly doesn't. There's no reason for __**you**__ to blame yourself. Don't start regressing now; what would Tifa say?"_

_Tifa…_

_Cloud was silent, feeling that crushing sense of loneliness and loss rising up again to smother him. Aerith seemed to pick up on it; he felt, rather than saw, her wince beside him. "I'm sorry…Cloud…"_

"_I suppose there was never any chance of me having any say in the matter?" the ex-mercenary interrupted her, a flicker of anger stirring in him for the first time. Aside from the fact that he would not have chosen into go the past, having the decision itself taken out of his hands was a loss of control that felt too much like manipulation. And if there was one thing he had grown to hate, it was manipulation. _

"_Cloud, you must understand, the Planet doesn't mean you ill," Aerith's tone was agitated. "It…it thinks in broad strokes. Of what is best for the whole, instead of the individual. It believes that sending you into the past is the best way to protect everyone and everything. What the Planet doesn't understand is that it isn't good for you to be separated from the people you care about. It simply isn't good at __**people. **__It doesn't really understand the complexities of human emotion, doesn't understand the trauma you've been through, doesn't understand that you __**need**__ your friends." There was a touch on his shoulder, light and comforting. "That's where I stepped in. I couldn't change the Planet's mind, but I convinced it that you would need help, would need support."_

_Cloud froze, hardly daring to hope. It would too painful to have it crushed now. "Aerith…?"_

_Her hand slipped into his, and gave it a reassuring squeeze, bare fingers radiating warmth into the black leather. "I've sent you some anchors, Cloud." _

_He could hear the radiant smile in her voice and suddenly wanted desperately to turn and see it on her face, see the joy of it touch her green eyes and fill them with light. But he resisted, knowing that it was impossible. She would simply vanish before he could see her._

_Instead, Cloud squeezed back gently, and simply said, "Thank you," letting the emotion fill his voice and do the talking for him. He had never been that good with words._

"_You're welcome." Her voice was still smiling. And then her fingers slipped out of his, leaving them cold. "But I…I'm afraid I must leave now. I'm running out of time and it's a long journey back."_

_Cloud was jolted by her words. "You're going back? To the future?"_

"_Yes." Her voice was tinged with regret. "I can't stay; even if circumstances had allowed, I don't have a body, which I would need in order to make the transition. There are certain imbalances in the fabric of time caused by the arrival of time travellers that are allowing me this short visit; but I won't be able to remain any longer, because I'm afraid that I'm going to have ask you to correct those imbalances, in order to prevent a paradox occurring."_

"_Imbalances?"_

"_Yes. Don't worry," she added, smiling, perhaps sensing his trepidation. "You'll know them when you stumble over them. And you __**will **__stumble over them. Things like that tend to get drawn together." There was quiet for a few moments, then she added, "Also, the nausea and headaches that you've been experiencing are actually a side effect of the imbalances. They won't completely disappear until the imbalances are sorted."_

_The swordsman nodded, mostly to himself. He had been right, in a roundabout way, that the time-travel had caused his unusual illness._

_Silence fell momentarily. Then Cloud broke it. "So this is it?" he asked, taking a deep breath. "This is goodbye? Forever, this time?"_

_He felt fingertips lightly on his back again, Aerith trying to pour comfort through the simple touch. "Yes and no. It's the final goodbye for me. But not for you. You'll see me again; albeit not __**this **__me."_

"…_I don't understand."_

_Aerith's clear, bright laughter rang out. "Silly! Hasn't it occurred to you? I exist here too you know! I'm quite sure you'll sure cross paths with the younger version of myself, especially since you're currently camped out in her church!"_

_Cloud stood stock still, shock filling him. He couldn't believe that he hadn't realised. He had been too dazed by the fact that he had time-travelled, and by the misery-inducing knowledge that he was completely and utterly alone. But Aerith…was alive here. Gaia, so was Zack! The thought made a roaring tidal wave of emotions rise within him, a bizarre mix of hope and fear, joy and grief. __**Maybe, if I'm here to change the future, I could change their futures too, **__he thought, hope soaring within him. __**Avert the fate that awaits them.**_

"_I'll leave you to chew on that then." The brunette's voice made him snap back to his surroundings. The ex-mercenary felt her fingers slip into his one last time and then her lips pressed a feather-light kiss against his temple. "Farewell, Cloud." He could hear the finality in her voice as she released his hand. This really was goodbye._

_Then she walked forward, brushing past him, and the blond saw her clearly for the first time since he had held her body in the City of the Ancients. The pink dress, fitting her slender form like a glove (__**the pink dress, stained red with her lifeblood, spirit fled her body too quickly to be saved**__); the thick plait of auburn hair that swayed a little with her movement, pink ribbon keeping it place (__**the pink ribbons that they all wear now, in memory of her sacrifice, in memory of **__**her**__)._

_Then Aerith half-turned and he saw her face clearly, framed by locks of hair. She smiled that breathtaking smile, her green eyes bright with life and laughter, and all thoughts of blood and death were banished. _

"_Goodbye, Aerith." Cloud managed choke out somehow, pierced through by both grief and joy._

"_You'll see me soon," the brunette promised. "Even if it's not exactly __**me**__." She paused. "I have faith in you Cloud. You'll do an excellent job of protecting the Planet. I know you will." She winked suddenly and tapped the side of her head. "Ancient's intuition."_

_Cloud gave a choked laugh, overwhelmed by so much emotion that he wasn't even sure what it was anymore, but still managed to raise a sceptical brow in response to the banter._

_Aerith waggled a finger in mock-admonishment. "Doubter! Don't worry; you'll prove yourself wrong." Then she stepped away and began turning around. "But don't forget to live for yourself either," she added, pausing and fixing her green eyes on him. Another fleeting smile touched her lips. "Have fun. Do things for yourself. Be happy. Live."_

_Cloud nodded, still unable to speak, but he knew she understood. She smiled, one last time, and he tried to fix the image of her like that in his mind, the way her face filled with light. "I know you'll be fine."_

_Then Aerith turned and walked away for the last time, disappearing into the white, light-filled void._

xxx

The plains surrounding Midgar were arid wastelands, devoid of almost all life. During the day the temperature soared, baking the landscape. At night, it plummeted to below freezing, changing from one extreme to the other. Rain never seemed to fall on the area and the earth was completely infertile. The plains were so drained of life that only a few monsters even bothered to roam the dry, dusty brown wasteland in search of food.

Tonight, however, they had unexpected company. Two forms huddled together for warmth, in the lee of an enormous black motorcycle which was propped up by the kickstand. It sheltered them a little from the cold wind that occasionally blew and that made them shiver uncontrollably.

One was a girl, no more than seven years old. Her dark brown hair was plaited back from her face, secured with a pink bow, and she wore a white dress, which had turned brown thanks to the dusty earth.

The other was a boy, about two years older. He had fine, feathery brown hair that fell across his face and into his blue eyes. He wore loose canvas trousers and a dark, grey hoodie, which was currently zipped up around both children in an attempt to keep them both warm.

The faint pale light of dawn was visible on the eastern horizon but it brought no comfort to the boy and girl huddled as closely as they could to each other, and to Fenrir, whose engine still retained some heat.

"D-don't worry, D-denzel," the girl said, teeth chattering. Her hand found his and they held each other tightly. "He'll come for us. She said he would. He'll come."

* * *

**A/N: Done! As you can see, I have decided to continue this story after all. xD Though this chapter was a pain in the ass to write. I don't know how some people write angst all the time, it just makes me feel so miserable. Even recovering!Cloud is pretty mopey. xD**

**Also, before anyone asks, Cloud is ****24****, Marlene is ****7**** and Denzel is ****9****, which means this story takes place a year after Advent Children (but they were sent back before the events of DoC begin.) Just to clarify. :) **

**Anyhow, thank you for reading and if you have got this far, please leave a review. :D**


End file.
